


I don't care for sugar honey if I can't have you

by mariarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft, Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Kiss, M/M, Omega John, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pining Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariarty/pseuds/mariarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs a flatmate that isn't boring. John most certainly isn't boring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first attempt at writing something so any comments and/or critic at all are more than welcome! As english isn't my native language there's probably going to be some missspelling and stuff like that so if you notice anything please point it out so I can fix it. 
> 
> I sort of have the story planed out but not all of it is set in stone so any suggestions would be great, sometimes reading one thing inspires to another and so on.
> 
> Hope you like it! xx
> 
> Oh and the title is from Walking on broken glass by Annie Lennox, I've been listening to that song on repeat while writing this and couldn't come up with anything else. Might change later if that's possible.

The second Sherlock left Barts a black car pulled up. He briefly considers on ignoring it but then slides in next to his brother. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
"Do you really think it's wise of you to share a flat with an omega, Sherlock?" Mycroft sounds simultaneously bored and superior.  
”I fail to see how that’s any of your concern Mycroft.” Sherlock snaps and notices a file next to his brother and picks it up. “I assume this contain whatever information you have on John Watson?”  
“You know I only have your best at interest” Mycroft says and then frowns when Sherlock snorts. “Quite the career for an omega I must admit” He nods towards the file that now is spread out in Sherlock’s lap and indeed contains information on Captain John Watson. Sherlock hums an agreement and continue reading about the unusual omega. “He should be able to handle some of your… eccentric behaviours but surely him being an omega is an unnecessary risk? Why don’t I find you someone to share a flat with?”  
Sherlock snorts again. “Yes, because that worked out so well with.. what’s his name? Adam? How is dear Adam, still in ICU?”  
“Eric was able to leave the hospital last week, and the doctors believe that he’ll fully recover. Your concern is overwhelming dear brother, but this time I might..”  
“The man, whatever his name was, was an imbecile, he clearly shouldn’t have disrupted my experiment.” Sherlock interrupts. “I will not require your help, the only thing I’m interested in sharing with John is the rent. I have no intentions what so ever to find an omega and bond as you’re well aware, so please spare me this concern of yours.”  
Mycroft quietly observes his little brother before straightening up and knock on the glass towards the chauffeur with the handle of his umbrella, “As you wish, I’ll have my people transport your things to your new address, Baker Street was it?”  
Not bothering to answer Sherlock leaves the car and pulls his coat closer to himself as he watches the car disappear down the street. 

 

When Sherlock had realized that he’d need to find a flatmate to be able to move from the godforsaken area he currently lived in he had never expected he would even consider an omega. Being an alpha himself and a rather territorial one he knew that there was no way he’d be able to share with another alpha. Just having Mycroft on his little (unwelcome) visits in his flat would make him feel on edge. So he’d been certain that he would have to find a beta that would be able to put up with him, which would’ve been hard enough as an unbounded alphas still in this day and age was generally considered somewhat of testosterone fuelled savages. An omega had never even crossed his mind (or of course it had. Everything has, he’s Sherlock Holmes, but he’d never considered it) but John Watson seemed different, he hadn’t lived his life on a cushion as most omegas did waiting for an alpha to provide for them, he had worked hard for a medical degree (obvious since he studied at Barts) and then worked his way up in the military. And as if that wasn’t enough the omega was close to forty and unbounded which instantly had made Sherlock curious. Most omegas found a mate in their early twenties, sometimes as early as in their teens and Sherlock had never meet an omega over 30 that didn’t have a mate. Clearly John wasn’t a traditional omega and therefore he might actually be acceptable to live with. Sherlock despised people that always did what was expected of them and followed traditions and expectations without hesitation, he surely hadn’t and it seemed like neither had John Watson. Suddenly Sherlock couldn’t wait to meet the doctor again and find out more about him. 

________________________________________

When Sherlock got back to his place all of his belongings apart from one was already gone (he was mildly impressed that even the acid stain on the ceiling was missing). Left was a little black wooden box on the coffee table, It was beautifully carved and had a golden lock with the key in it on the front. Sherlock opened the box and as suspected the box was empty, clearly Mycroft’s minions had found and confiscated the last of his cocaine and left the box to inform him of it. Annoyed Sherlock threw away the box, he’d been clean for two years (four months and three days) now and that Mycroft still felt the need to remind him of that part of his life was frustrating. Just like the scars on his arms Mycroft’s concern would always be there, a constant reminder of him losing control of himself. And even though Sherlock would get frustrated and fed up with Mycroft he knew that it was justified and that he had no one to blame but himself. Memories started to resurface and in search for a distraction Sherlock left the poor excuse of a flat for the last time.

He ended up on Baker Street having tea and biscuits in Mrs Hudson’s kitchen. She was going on about how nice it was that Sherlock had found someone and potential improvements of the flat upstairs. Sherlock wasn’t paying much attention and hummed agreeably whenever Mrs Hudson seemed to paus for him to comment on something. After four pieces of lemon cake and far too much small talk (was it really necessary to talk that much about nieces and nephews?) Sherlock headed upstairs to spend his first night at Baker Street. The flat seemed awfully quiet after Mrs Hudson’s constant chatting and Sherlock wondered if this always would be the case. Was John a quiet flatmate? Or maybe he was like Mrs Hudson and didn’t know how to enjoy a good silence, Sherlock shuddered at the thought. He thought back at their meeting at Barts, John didn’t seem like a loud person but one never knew (not even Sherlock, John was as said not very typical) so Sherlock decided not to dwell on it and to get some sleep, he’d be able to deduce more about John the following day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm currently in London visiting a friend so I probably won't be able to update until next week. I wrote this chapter pretty much on the plane over here.
> 
> One again, please comment and leave critic and a huge thank you to the people that left kudos on the first chapter!  
> xx

Chapter 2

The next day Sherlock started to unpack his things. If it was one thing he had learned from rehab (other than that withdrawal was something he never wanted to go through again) it was that he couldn’t bear to live in places that didn’t look lived in. Every day he had woken up to those white walls with insipid paintings glued to them, in his white wood framed bed with the white linen and all he’d wanted to do was to go back to sleep again. The whole place had just reeked of nothingness, and there had been nothing to focus his mind on except for the excruciating withdrawal. Nothing to deduce or to analyse, just the feeling of drowning in blandness and ever since he’d always made sure that wherever he lived it reflected him at least a little. He would wake up in his own sheets, see his belongings and know that he’d managed to get out of that god-awful place.

When he was done unpacking he decided to head over to Lestrade and nag him about letting him in on the suicide cases, they were clearly out of his league and why he wouldn’t just accept it was beyond Sherlock. When he got there Lestrade was in a foul mood and wouldn’t even listen to Sherlock’s arguments on why he just should give in. He did actually go as far as threatening never to work with Sherlock again if he didn’t leave, which obviously was a lie, Lestrade needed his help as much as Sherlock needed the work but none the less Sherlock left Lestrade to it, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before Lestrade came asking for him to have a look.

Time seemed to move exceedingly slow today, which it wasn't because it wasn't possible, and there was still four hours left before he was supposed to meet up with John at Baker Street so Sherlock decided to do a check of the homeless network. After replacing Shaun, the forty-three year old former baker that had died of pneumonia the week before, with Ania, a twenty-two year old runaway from Polen, outside Green Park and finding out that Paulie by Victoria Station had lost his eyesight due to cataract it was time for Sherlock to head back to Baker Street. As the cab arrived he could see John limping towards the door. Sherlock felt almost giddy with excitement, John was a puzzle and Sherlock hadn't met anyone this interesting in years, he forced himself not to let it show and act normal.

Everything was going great, apart from John finding the place a bit messy (he didn't seem to mind it too much though) and Mrs Hudson's bedroom comment (that she and Mycroft behaved this way just because he was going to share the flat with an omega was incredibly annoying), and then Lestrade showed up asking for help (at last!). And no matter how fascinating John was he wasn't four suicides and a note fascinating (which didn't say much considering that Sherlock pretty much always had always found dead people more interesting than living ones). But on his way down to hail a cab Sherlock came to the realisation that if John came along he'd be able to deduce him a bit more in the cab on the way to the crime scene and whenever the case didn't require all of his attention, so taking a gamble he decided to ask John to come along. 

Later, as they were waiting for their chicken curry and spring rolls to arrive, Sherlock decided that it was probably the best decision he had made in a long time. Not only had John obviously enjoyed the case, he had also found Sherlock's deductions to be amazing AND he had just killed a man for him. Sherlock looked at the man before him who was dressed in an ill fitted jumper and fiddling with the dessert menu, a cold blooded killer. Sherlock realised he might have been wrong earlier about John not being as interesting as four suicides and a note.  
"So.." Sherlock interrupted the silence (that John hadn't seemed to mind, thank god) "I assume you'll have to move your stuff in at some point" trying to sound confident that John would move in with him but silently begging him to, he couldn't bear to lose this puzzle just yet.  
"Yeah, not that there's much room for any of it with your stuff all over the place" John smiled as the food arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and a MASSIVE thank you to everyone that has left kudos on this so far, this is the first thing I've ever written and I'm overwhelmed, so thank you!
> 
> As always, please leave a comment on what you thought of it.
> 
> xx

In the weeks that followed a routine was quickly developed at 221B Baker Street. John was like no other flat mate Sherlock had ever had, and he'd gone through his fair share of them over the years. When he found body parts in the kitchen he would mumble something about it "better not contaminate the food" rather than run screaming (except for that one time when Sherlock had left two penises in the microwave and John had stormed in to Sherlock's room where a lot of screaming had taken place, as well as a worrying amount of curses and threats), he didn't complain when Sherlock retreated to his mind palace and ignored him for days (he only scolded him if this meant that he forgot to eat) and he actually was pleasant company (which possibly was the most remarkable thing of all). In earlier living arrangements Sherlock would often spend most of his time in his room in an effort to spend as little time as possible with whoever he was sharing the flat with, now he found himself drawn to the living room whenever he was home knowing that if John was at home we would most likely be there as well.  
Cases would come in and John would come along. Sherlock couldn't remember feeling this content with his life since well before university. He hadn't realised how having someone to share the work with would make it even more rewarding. John would complement his genius and call him "amazing" and "fantastic", giggle with him on crime scenes and make fun of Anderson behind his back. For the first time in very, very long Sherlock had someone on his side and he relished in it. When cases ended late in the evening (which most of them did for some reason, which Lestrade wasn't overtly fond of) Sherlock would invite John out for dinner not wanting to split up and have John head up to his room straight away. 

It wasn't until John's argument with the chip and pin machine that things such as being able to pay the rent started to make itself reminded. Sherlock wouldn't gain access to his trust fond again for yet another six months and until then he would only be able to pay half the rent, which meant that John, with his army pension, would have to find an income. Which he did rather quickly, as well as a date. Sherlock didn't like the idea of having to share John just yet, he had just found the fascinating man after all and even though a job admittedly was necessary, the date wasn't. But, Sherlock reasoned, John put up with a lot of Sherlock's (according to others) less than pleasant habits so surely he'd be able to allow John this whole dating thing. 

Turns out that he couldn't, but to be fair it really wasn't his fault that The Black Lotus would choose that particular day to have their last appearance before taking of. But the beta woman (Sandra?) seemed interested enough in John not to let the whole circus thing get in the way and, struggling to be a good flat mate, Sherlock held his tongue when John brought her back to the flat with them. 

Against all odds she even proved not to be totally inept by noticing Soo Lin’s notes. If she hadn't been acting so much like Molly, awkward and giggly, she might even have been tolerable. Sherlock did however not want her to have anything more to do with the case, cases was something Sherlock didn't want to share with anyone but John and if John was busy with that woman then Sherlock would just have to finish the whole thing by himself (and by doing that surely earning himself a compliment or two from John). 

After returning to the flat with London A-Z in his hand expecting praises for finding the right title after only a few minutes (he was actually quite impressed with himself) Sherlock was instead confronted with the fact that someone had walked into his home and taken his John. Sherlock did not like this at all and snarled at the graffiti covering the windows and fought down the urge to throw something at them before he brought out a map desperate to find John and bring him back as soon as possible.

In the cab Sherlock realised that he was panicking. The Black Lotus has proven over and over that they weren't above killing people that disturbed their business, and now they had John (and probably that woman as well) and different scenarios kept coming up in his mind despite him doing his best to prevent it. There wasn’t any signs of a fight in their flat so at least he knew that John hadn’t sustained any serious injuries there, and the fact that they had taken him rather than killing him on the spot was also encouraging. But still, John was a soldier, surely he would struggle and especially considered that they seemed to have taken Sandra(?) as well, John’s protective instincts would kick in and make him try something stupid to ensure the woman’s safety. Soon Sherlock’s imagination was running wild (what if he didn’t get there in time!?) and he found himself in quite the state so he forced himself to calm down, he was of no use to John like this. Yes, he had become rather found of the omega doctor and the very thought of him being taken away from him like this made him go cold, but Sherlock was a professional and would not allow his feelings to get the better of him and cloud his mind. He would stay calm, work this out, get John home and ensure that he lever left the flat ever again. The second the cab came to a stop Sherlock threw some money at the driver and ran.

When he enters the tunnel the distressed pheromones John gives away hits him like a ton of bricks, Sherlock grit his teeth and clenches his fists as he carefully tries to get closer to the voices he can hear further in. Whoever these people are, Sherlock will make them pay, he will use the devious location to his benefit and ensure that they wish they’d never been born, much less taken what was his. As he keeps walking the voices grows louder and when he finally sees them he has to fight down the urge to just throw himself at the woman currently holding a gun to John’s head. He silently vows to kill that woman with his bare hands before he starts to assess the situation.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally an update! This chaper is quite long compared to the others, which is something I'm working on since I know how frustrating short chapters can be. 
> 
> This one is a bit more Johnlock than the others (finally!). I feel like the first chapters was mostly a set up and now the story I had in mind can finally begin.
> 
> As always I'm very grateful for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments, thank you!
> 
> xx

Apparently the woman’s name was Sarah, not Sandra. The moment Sherlock was informed of this he deleted it, he didn’t care. What he did care about however was that John finally was where he was supposed to be, in his chair in Baker Street holding a cup of tea. Sherlock sat opposite him in his own chair trying to look calm and collected and sneak glances of John when he wasn’t watching, despite his (hopefully) cool exterior Sherlock was having somewhat of a crisis. This evening had contained a lot of feelings that he needed to process (as well as processing the fact the he needed to process feelings) the fear and anger when he realised that John had been taken, the pure relief when he realised that he was safe and the flaring jealousy when John, in an effort to comfort the woman, held her tight and pressed his lips to her temple. Obviously this doctor (his doctor his mind growled) was dearer to him than he first thought. 

If he’d been asked earlier he would have said that his attachment to the omega was the result of being offered tea on a regular basis as well as praise, but when John had been taken Sherlock’s main fear hadn’t been that he would lose his favourite tea maker, it had been losing his John, with his affectionate smile, appalling jumpers and warmth. The fact that he thought of John as his wasn’t much of a surprise for Sherlock considering his possessive nature, but the way that he meant it certainly was. It wasn’t like with Molly and Lestrade (that he also considered to be his to some extent) that they were his to do with as he pleased (within reason of course) so he could send them off on errands or make use of them whenever he saw fit. He’d thought that this was what he’d felt with John, that the ownership he more or less felt entitled to came from him not wanting John to have anyone but him just so that he’d always be available to him with his usefulness. But, as of tonight, Sherlock had to admit to himself that that wasn’t the case, that it wasn’t the case at all. When he had seen General Shan holding the gun to John’s head Sherlock had felt the need to put himself between the two of them, because John was his to protect and care for, and when she had pulled the trigger with the blank bullet Sherlock’s heart had stopped for a moment, no not just his heart but his very being froze as dread slammed in to him with full force as well as the though, I can not go on without him. Thinking back at the moment Sherlock could feel himself go cold, and then frowned at himself, John was fine and reacting like this was so sentimental that Sherlock felt positively disgusted with himself. 

Suddenly John’s amused snort cut through Sherlock’s thoughts and he looked up at the older man.  
“You look as if Anderson’s in the room” John explained, voice laced with humour. “What thought could possibly produce that look?”  
Sherlock scowled at the mentioning of the moronic forensic as well as being transparent enough for John to notice his mood. “I don’t like that General Shan got away” he answers which was true enough, the only reason he hasn’t found her yet and made good of the silent promise he’d made earlier that night was that the need to stay with John was still too strong for him to go looking for revenge.  
“Yeah, bit annoying that, but you’ll find her. You always do” John adds with a smile, which causes Sherlock heart to flutter (which is completely illogical and stupid) and then stands up. “I’m going to bed, I’m absolutely knackered. Do try to get some sleep yourself would you?” John reaches for Sherlock’s empty cup and heads with it, as well as his own, for the kitchen. Sherlock hums something in reply that could be interpreted either way and then watches the omega leave the kitchen and head for the stairs. 

When he a few hours later receives a text from Lestrade stating that General Shan had been shot he silently curses how easy she got away before he heads to his room for a couple of hours of sleep.

________________________________________

The following day John acts just like normal, making tea and muttering at the newspaper, and Sherlock, that came to the decision to get a grip over his feelings, attempts to do the same. Everything is going well, until just after four in the afternoon when Sherlock, sitting in the kitchen experimenting on dead rabbits, hears John leave the sofa, where he’d been the last two hours watching some documentary on the telly about World War II, and start fiddling with his phone. The press of buttons is slow as if he’s looking for something, which he apparently finds as he firmly presses one of the buttons and then clears his throat, obvious signs of initiating a call. Sherlock pauses his experiment to give the call his full attention.  
“Hi Sarah!” John exclaimed sounding relieved. “I wasn’t sure you’d pick up after last night, I just wanted to hear that you’re all right.”  
Sherlock closed his eyes and gripped the end of the table as jealousy once again swept through him. The memory of her hands clinging on to John, looking for comfort where she shouldn’t, and the warmth in John’s eyes as he quietly murmured soothing words to her. Witnessing the intimate scene had caused Sherlock to have trouble with breathing properly and he’d had to turn his back to them, wanting to leave them behind but not able to separate himself from John so soon after the ordeal. 

In the other room he could hear John chatting and laughing and Sherlock leaned forward putting his head in his hands. After god knows how long, the call seemed to come to an end as John laughed. “So I still have a job then? Good, good.. Maybe I could take you out again? Yeah, well I’d love to take you out for an evening that doesn’t contain murderous acrobats and Chinese smuggling rings.” He laughed and Sherlock grabbed the petri dish closest to him and threw it against the wall opposite him before he was able to recognise and fight the impulse. As the splintered glass spread across the kitchen floor he could hear John finish the call.  
“Great! I really have to go now, I think Sherlock blew something up in the kitchen but I’ll pick you up on Friday then?” Sherlock collapsed against the table and pulled his hair. Why did he care so much!? And how? 

Sherlock had been careful with his heart ever since he was a child. When Redbeard had died Sherlock had cried himself to sleep for weeks and one day Mycroft (that obviously had gotten sick of it, cold bastard) had sat him down in the library and told him all about sentiment being a chemical defect. Since then Sherlock had not allowed feelings to control him, certain people (like Mrs Hudson with her lemon cake) had earned themselves a place in his life but they didn’t affect his emotional state much, sure the overenthusiastic chatting was a bit annoying but nothing more than that. And then came John. The second he enters the kitchen Sherlock looks up and can feel his heart start raising and when John directs a confused face towards him, after noticing the broken glass on the floor, Sherlock feels a need, for what he isn’t sure but it has everything to do with John and he can’t understand how this could possibly have happened. He’s only known the doctor for a few weeks and somehow every wall he’s ever built to protect himself is crumbling.  
“What’s going on here?” John asks with a frown on his face looking pointedly at the former petri dish.  
“A slight miscalculation” Sherlock mumbles and pointedly hides his face in his hands once again.  
“Really, about what?” You, Sherlock thinks but instead stays silent until John leaves the kitchen muttering something about better not getting his feet cut up in the morning. 

Sherlock looks at the shattered petri dish and feel like he can relate to it, and really if you can relate to broken objects then things obviously has gotten out of control. What was he supposed to do now?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY for taking this long with this update, my computer more or less broke down (which caused me to do the same, LOTS of tears I assure you) but now everything is as it's supposed to be again and I'll get back to updating this.
> 
> In my absence we've reached over 100 kudos on this (139 in this very moment), I'm well and truly shocked and oh so grateful for each and every one of you. THANK YOU. 
> 
> As always, please leave a comment on what you thought of it. 
> 
> (And I know this chapter is a short one but I'll do my best to make the next one longer!)
> 
> xx

In the days that followed Sherlock tried to come up with a plan on how to deal with the doctor and his feelings towards him, and he came up with nothing. Days were spent on the sofa thinking (sulking according to John) and nothing seemed to solve the situation he found himself in. He spent hours analysing and managed to narrow down his biggest concerns to two things (which was a big improvement if you compared to the beginning when everything had felt like something to be concerned about). 

1\. Sherlock wasn’t able to supress his feelings. He would try and then John would give him one of his genuine smiles and Sherlock would feel the strangest sensation in his stomach (which he refused to refer to as butterflies because that was beyond stupid).

2\. John and Sarah was going on another date this very evening. And as if that wasn’t enough, John actually seemed to be exited and look forward to it which made Sherlock stomach turn (apparently his stomach was reacting to everything John did!). All day he’d been humming and looking so gleeful that Sherlock had lashed out more than once on everything from his ridiculous jumpers to the way he walked in stairs, but John had just ignored him which had make Sherlock feel even worse. Apparently he didn’t matter at all on this day and why would he when there was Sarah who was exceedingly dull and just a waste of space to be honest.

 

When John left for his date Sherlock was lying on the sofa contemplating whether this was the worst night of his entire existence, and when he ten minutes later heard the front door open and recognized the step on the stairs he couldn’t suppress a moan of misery. As his older brother entered the flat Sherlock decided that yes, this was the worst night of his existence.  
“I did warn you” Mycroft said sounding bored and placed himself in John’s chair which caused Sherlock to fight down a snarl.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about Mycroft, do leave” said Sherlock tiredly and turned his back on his brother to curl in to the sofa.  
“Oh please, this mood you’re in obviously has to do with the fact that Dr Watson is on a date with that beta from the clinic.” Sherlock could hear his older brother reach into his pocket and pull out his notepad. “Sarah Sawyer.” He reads out loud and then puts away the note pad again. Seconds go by and Sherlock can practically hear Mycroft’s frown at being ignored like this. After a while Mycroft stands “You should have picked up on my offer instead of moving in with an omega you know, maybe next time you’ll listen to me when I try to help you brother dear”  
And suddenly Sherlock is furious, at Mycroft, at John, at Sarah fucking Sawyer and the rest of this godforsaken world. “Yes, let’s pretend like this has anything to do with the fact that John is an omega” he snarls as he whirls out of the couch and stands with his fist clenching glaring at his older brother.  
Mycroft looks shocked for a fraction of a second before something like realization dawns upon his face, “Oh, so this is a matter of true love then” he smirks and moves towards the door. “You really should tell him you know” Mycroft stops at the door and looks at his younger brother. “Not everyone can read you like an open book” He then has to duck as Sherlock hurls a pillow towards him and frowns. “Stop being childish Sherlock, mummy would be appalled over your manners.” he spat before leaving the flat and Sherlock standing in the middle of the room furious and embarrassed over his emotional outbreak. 

When John got back at the flat far too late in the evening for Sherlock’s liking the detective feigned to be asleep and tried look as if he’d been busy sleeping instead of spending the entire evening lying miserable on the sofa counting every goddamn minute John chose not to spend with him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings! We’ve reached yet another milestone, this story now has 100 subscribers, which is absolutely bonkers! Thank you so much for commenting, leaving kudos and subscribing, it really means a lot to me!
> 
> Next chapter will probably be posted on Sunday if everything goes according to plan. Please keep leaving comments on what you thought of it, what did you like, was it something you didn’t like, what would you like to see happen etc etc. This started out as a thing I’d write just for my own amusement but since you’ve been so lovely I feel like this is yours as well and I really want you to like it.
> 
> xx

The next day Sherlock found himself on a plane on his way to Minsk hoping that a murder and some distance would help him clear his head a bit. Sadly though the man that had contacted him was just as guilty as unable to speak proper English and Sherlock left the same day as he arrived. In a first class seat (every now and then Mycroft proved to be useful) on his way back to Heathrow Sherlock started to consider Mycroft’s so called advice and talk to John, but how did one go about such things? With Victor Sherlock hadn’t have to say anything as his former lover had been so sure of Sherlock’s feelings that he hadn’t bothered to confirm if they existed at all, the look of surprise and betrayal on his face when he realized that he wasn’t the keeper of Sherlock’s heart was one of Sherlock’s most cherished memories. 

Smiling at the memory Sherlock picked up his phone and decided to check John’s blog (thank God for wifi on planes) and quickly stopped smiling as he quickly scanned through a post called A Study in Pink posted roughly two months earlier. Why he hadn’t thought of checking John’s blog in all those moments when he’d felt the need to know what the doctor thought of him was beyond him as John quite freely wrote it openly for everyone to see, and Sherlock did not like it at all. Yes, the omega had used words as “genius” and “he's the cleverest person I've ever met” to describe him but he not all of it was complimentary, the sentence that caused Sherlock most distress was found in the seventh indention, “I suspect if he came back and found me and our landlady lying here with our throats cut, he'd just see it as an intellectual exercise. 'Fantastic' he'd exclaim, rubbing his hands together.” it read. Surely John knew that this wasn’t the case, that this never had been the case. Now that Sherlock recognized the feelings he harboured towards the doctor he also recognized that he’d been almost instantly smitten with him. The very thought of finding John without a pulse was enough to cause Sherlock great distress and he all of a sudden had problem swallowing due to a huge lump in his throat. 

He read through the post once again and left a generic comment on John’s lack of the analytical reasoning. If this was how John thought Sherlock felt about him then showing up and declaring his feelings and trying to explain the need he felt to be the doctor’s everything maybe would be a bit overwhelming (contrary to popular belief Sherlock did have some tact, he just didn’t bother with it a lot but this was John). Maybe he should just start in small scales, little actions here and there to show appreciation towards John and his presence in Sherlock’s life, allowing John to get used to the idea of Sherlock actually caring. This would also give Sherlock some time to figure out how to bring up his feelings to the doctor, he wasn’t sure how to describe them to himself yet much less to the omega.

Sherlock glanced down at his phone again and noticed that John had replied to his comment, asking (demanding really) for Sherlock to buy milk, as the alpha put his phone away preparing for the landing he decided that buying milk would be an adequate first action of affection. 

________________________________________

Sadly though somewhere between landing and getting to the cab outside the airport Sherlock forgot all about buying milk as he received a text from Molly stating that she had a head for him if he still wanted it for the saliva experiment he’d mentioned a few weeks earlier, and when he sat down in the backseat of the cab he gave the address to Barts and not Tesco Express at Baker Street.   
________________________________________

Sherlock didn’t realize his failure at buying milk until he got back at the flat and already had put the head (formerly known as Stanley) in the fridge and changed into his pyjama and dressing gown. He’d just have to be extra nice to John when he showed up after his shift at the clinic then, maybe ask how his day had been. Sherlock threw himself at the sofa to await the arrival of his flatmate. When two hours had passed however Sherlock was beyond bored and decided to go through John’s room in search of something interesting. The exploration was however cut short by John’s lack of personal items and Sherlock soon dragged himself down the stairs again with the most interesting thing he’d managed to find, John’s gun. Sherlock hadn’t had the chance to take a good look at it and holding its solid weight in his hands and know that John had used this to protect him from the situation with the cabbie sent a tingle down Sherlock’s spine. The gun was well kept and smelled of cleaning solvent, oil, gunpowder and John, the scent caused Sherlock to feel a bit warm even though it was late march and the flat quite cold and he squirmed where he sat in his chair. 

Sherlock held the gun out in the same way he expected John had on that night two months earlier. How long had he aimed before he squeezed the trigger? Sherlock wondered. What did his face look like when he realised that he’d hit his target, was it anguish, relief or pride? What thoughts had crossed his mind? Sherlock realised that he’d never thought to ask John this and silently wondered why. He then took aim on the smiley he’d drawn earlier in yellow on the wall above the sofa, imagined it to be Jeffrey Hope and pulled the trigger. The adrenaline surged through his body as his arm vibrated and his ears rung with loud hot. He pulled the trigger again and again and then leaned his head back to enjoy the hormones raging through his bloodstream.

When John finally got back from work the shooting had gone from being exiting to barely holding off his boredom. Instead of showing John his affection as planed Sherlock somehow initiated to what Mrs Hudson referred to as a domestic and John left the flat in anger. Luckily a gas leak caused an explosion shortly after so Sherlock’s mind didn’t have the opportunity to dwell over the sight of John Watson rushing down the street in an attempt to get away from him.   
________________________________________

When Sherlock reached consciousness again he headed downstairs to make sure that Mrs Hudson was alright and then stayed for a cup of tea while she calmed down and dotted on him. “Oh and thank God Doctor Watson left when he did, if he’d left a minute later things could have gone bad” said Mrs Hudson more to herself than to Sherlock as he hadn’t been much of a controversial company but at this remark he froze. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, and with it came the memory of their “domestic” and shortly after Sherlock excused himself and headed up to think in his bedroom as his normal thinking spot, the sofa, was covered in what once was their windows.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I’ve been think about getting a beta reader pretty much from the start (as English isn’t my first language and there’s bound to be some mistakes), and now that it was suggested to me to do so in the comments as well I think it’s time for me to actually try to find someone. The thing is, I have no idea where to look for one. If you are interested or have a tip as to how I can find one then please let me know in the comments!
> 
> And I keep repeating this (Sherlock would probably hate me haha) but THANK YOU for comments, bookmarks and kudos!  
> xx

When Mycroft left the next day with his aching tooth (obvious) Sherlock had to grip tightly to his violin in an effort not to throw himself at John. John had not only mocked Mycroft but outright laughed at him. Very few dared to laugh in Mycroft’s presence, much less at him and here was John Watson with eyes crinkled in mirth at Mycroft’s failure and Sherlock wanted nothing more than to taste his laugh. Surely this was the sort of behaviour that should be rewarded, and surely this called for something more than just a bottle of milk. Maybe he should take John out for breakfast, he clearly hadn’t had anything to eat yet and the fridge didn’t contain much (other than Stanley of course) and consuming food always put John in a good mood (the fact that Sherlock for some reason found it pleasing to watch John eat didn’t have anything to do with the excitement he felt at the prospect of going out, honestly). John probably wouldn’t like to be treated like one of Pavlov’s dogs so Sherlock decided it probably was best not to tell him that he was. His plans was however cast aside as Sherlock’s phone rang and Lestrade asked him to drop by Scotland Yard to have a look at something. Maybe they could have brunch after their meeting with Lestrade then, Sherlock knew precisely where to take the omega. 

Brunch also had to be cancelled but Sherlock wasn’t to upset by it since it was due to Moriarty (finally) reaching out to him. Instead of watching John consume scrambled eggs and those sausages he liked so much the forenoon was dedicated to finally solving the Carl Powers case that had been nagging in one of the cupboards in his mind palace for ages. 

If four suicides and a note was Christmas then Moriarty was New Year’s Eve with puzzle after puzzle to light up the gloomy boredom he usually was submitted to like fireworks.  
It wasn’t until after the fourth pip and getting the memory stick back from Joe Harrison that Sherlock realised that John didn’t seem to be as excited as he was about this whole thing. Sherlock quit watching what John referred to as “crap telly” and looked at the former army doctor with his jacket still on, why was he still wearing his jacket? Why wasn’t John more excited about these puzzles, usually he would be in a great mood after cases and want to go through every single detail again to relive it, and Sherlock had solved four of these puzzles now and John was yet to get post case happy. The idea of John not enjoying this was unacceptable. Yes it was a bit unfortunate that the old lady had started to talk about Moriarty’s characteristics and thereby giving herself a certain death but surely this didn’t mean that John didn’t care about all the other bits. John needed to enjoy cases just as much as he had in the past, or at least Sherlock needed him to. If John stopped enjoy cases then he probably would stop coming along on them and the only time Sherlock would get to see the omega would be between cases and John’s shifts at the clinic, which was unacceptable (also the idea of never sharing a case with John again was most unsettling). And if John wasn’t busy running around chasing criminals with Sherlock then the doctor would be able to (and surely would) put more of an effort into dating, which also was unacceptable. Sherlock suddenly felt desperate to say something to make the case seem more interesting to John so that he wouldn’t leave but what he ended up saying was: “You should break it off with Sarah”

John looked at him with surprise written all over his face from where he sat in front of his computer “I’m sorry what?”

Sherlock felt just as surprised over the comment that had escaped him and as a kneejerk reaction he immediately started to list all of the reason why the beta was a bad fit for John as well as a horrible person. The doctor looked at the detective seemingly at a loss for words before anger crossed his features and he suddenly stood up all tense. “Are you bloody serious now Sherlock? I’ve barely slept or eaten since this whole thing started, I was bloody tossed around by a seven feet assassin and had to listen to a terrified old lady get executed, maybe not the time to start criticizing my dating life!” John shouted at him with clenched fists, anger radiating from him like heat from a radiator. 

Oh, a bit not good. But to be fair it wasn’t like Sherlock had planned on criticizing the doctor, he just wanted him to stay and then his mouth had said something without consulting his brain first (and this was completely illogical but it wasn’t like his body made any sense anymore when it came to reactions towards John).  
Suddenly John stood up and headed for the door. “Since I actually had made planned with Sarah I’m off despite that she doesn’t live up to the standards of the ‘oh so important’ Sherlock Holmes” John then slammed the door after him when he left without giving Sherlock a chance to come up with a reply. Maybe it was for the best, Sherlock had no idea what to say, obviously he was awful at this whole thing. Every time he tried to make John stay he ended up driving him away.

Sherlock grabbed and opened up his computer, if Moriarty wasn’t going to contact him any time soon and give him the last puzzle then Sherlock would just have to contact him, anything to get out of this flat and have something to focus his mind on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings!  
> We've reached yet another milestone, 200 kudos which is absolutely mental. Thank you a thousand times!
> 
> Xmas is coming up so I'm going to be quite busy but I think that I'll be able to post the next chapter here on christmas eve (if you've been good this year that is *wink*)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and responding to this little story of mine, I'm still looking for a beta reader so anything to help me out with that would be appreciated!  
> xx

At the pool Sherlock’s nose is filled with the smell of chlorine as he turns around at the sound of a door being opened, John walks in and Sherlock stops dead in his tracks. His mind is shouting at him for being such a blind sentimental fool as his heart begs for it not to be as it seem, that John wouldn’t possibly to this to him. It takes Sherlock 14 seconds from noticing John to finding his voice again but John just keeps talking as he hasn’t heard his name from Sherlock’s lips. It takes Sherlock another 3 seconds to get his limbs under control and he lowers the memory stick that he seconds earlier held in a triumphant gesture and takes two steps closer to the doctor before he stops again.

When John opens his parka and reveals the bomb strapped to his chest Sherlock is so relieved for a fraction of a second that he almost gets dizzy, John hasn’t betrayed him. Then realisation slams in to the detective and he moves towards the omega (his omega, _his_ John) and forces himself not to run up to him but to observe his surroundings. The game he came here to play is suddenly nowhere to be seen and Sherlock feels sick with the need to get John out of here and to safety. “Stop it” the alpha begs whoever’s listening as John Watsons’s voice breaks while repeating the words he’s being fed.

* * *

 

When they get back to the flat again John stumbles to the sofa where his legs seems to give out and he ends up in a heap at the end of it. Sherlock leans back on the door with closed eyes, he’s still trying to calm his breathing that keeps on getting erratic the moment he doesn’t put all of his attention on it. With every deep breath he inhales the smell of John that impregnates the flat. How long would it take for it to go away without John here, making tea or lounging in his chair with a book? Sherlock shudders at the thought and suddenly he finds himself draping himself over the doctor on the sofa, burrowing his head into his neck. He can’t remember making his way over there nor even making the decision to do so but as he breathes John scent in, so much stronger here than he’s ever felt before, the tension he’s felt since John walked in at the pool leaves his body.

John is here and he’s very much alive. His warmth seeps through Sherlock’s suit and Sherlock sighs contentedly into his neck. After a moment Sherlock notices that he still can smell the chlorine clinging onto John’s clothes and he growls.

“Ehm, Sherlock?” John gently inquires and Sherlock realizes that the doctor has tensed up under him but can’t bring himself to do the same.  

“You have got to stop getting kidnapped John” the alpha mumbles into the omegas neck. “I can’t bear it”

John snorts. “Yeah I’ll do my best to avoid kidnappers in the future then so you won’t have to go looking for a new flatmate any time soon yeah?” and even though Sherlock can hear that John’s just attempting a joke dread slams into him once again and he curls even further into the doctor to fight off the cold that suddenly has taken hold of him.

“Please don’t joke about such things John” he whispers.

John falls quiet and for minutes the only sound coming from the flat is them breathing and the piping that every now and then insists on making a noise. Sherlock can feel John relax beneath him and after a while the doctor starts stroking the detectives lower back soothingly. When John interrupts the silence, after what could be seconds as well as hours, Sherlock realizes that he’s almost dozed off.

“Sherlock, why do you want me to break up with Sarah?” John asks quietly.

At the question Sherlock takes a deep breath. Of course John would realize, the man isn’t an idiot after all. And what’s the point of denying it at this point, Sherlock has draped himself all over the man and is sniffing his neck for Christ’s sake.

“I don’t want you to be with her” he says.

“Yeah I got that actually” John’s obviously trying to be patient. “But why?”

“Because _I_ want you” the detective says weakly.

The doctor inhales and Sherlock can practically feel him try to figure everything out in his little brain. “Yeah but you already have me by your side pretty much all the time so I don’t see..”

“John” Sherlock interrupts, why did he even bother confessing to feelings when the doctor seems incapable of understanding. He leans back to face the doctor and forces himself to meet his (beautiful) blue eyes. “I _want_ you” he says gravely.

“Yeah but I..” John starts, decidedly being thick and avoiding Sherlock’s eyes, and Sherlock decides that he’s had enough. _Sod it_ he thinks and presses his lips to the omega’s that abruptly goes still. John’s lips are dry but oh so warm. Sherlock wants to devour him, drink down the taste, wants to bite his lower lip and breathe in the air the doctor exhales. Instead he pulls back, the kiss nothing more than a press of his closed lips against John’s.

John’s eyes are still closed as Sherlock opens his and there’s a wrinkle of confusion on his forehead, Sherlock wants to kiss it away.

“Oh” the doctor breathes with eyes still closed. A sound of understanding.

“Yes” Sherlock confirms quietly and starts to remove himself from the doctor. He wants to hide away, to cry, to sleep for a century, to grab something and hurl it across the room, but more than anything he wants to curl up against the doctor again and keep breathing in his scent.

As he removes his hands from John’s chest and pushes himself off the omega to retreat to his room, John grab his lapels and holds him still. Sherlock searches his face. John’s eyes and open and they’re focused on him. For a moment they just look at each other and then John pulls him closer again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening my darlings and Merry Christmas!  
> I’ve been terribly busy but didn’t want to break my promise of updating today so I wrote half of this just minutes ago so if there’s mistakes then they’ll probably disappear soon enough when I go through this chapter again properly in a couple of days when everything has calmed down. (Does this sentence even make any sense?)
> 
> Sadly Santa did not bring me a beta reader (in my country we celebrate on Christmas Eve) so I’m still looking for one. And as always THANK YOU FOR KUDOS, BOOKMARKS, COMMENTS AND SUBSCRIBTIONS! I love you guys.
> 
> Now have a happy Christmas and I’ll get back to you sometime before New Year’s.  
> Xx

It takes Sherlock a moment to comprehend that _John_ is _kissing_ him, and when he does he has no idea what to do. Why is John kissing him? Does this mean that John feels the same? Is he just looking for a shag? What about Sarah? _What does this mean?_

“Sherlock, stop thinking and kiss me” John breathes against his lips which causes the detective to inhale sharply. Tentatively he nips at John lower lip and when the omega hums appreciatively Sherlock runs his tongue along it. When John slowly opens his mouth Sherlock licks into it, deciding to run along with this as long as he’s allowed. At the first taste of the omega Sherlock moans softly and his hands grip tightly to John’s jumper. John tastes like tea and toast with jam, and danger, and _home_. When John seeks out Sherlock’s tongue with his own the detective positively whimpers, beyond caring, completely lost to the sensations of kissing John Watson. The sensations of being _kissed_ by John Watson.

John kisses him as if the world has stopped (and Sherlock isn’t certain that it hasn’t) and they have all the time in the world. He kisses Sherlock as if Sherlock is something precious and the alpha can feel his heart breaking as he realizes this.

Suddenly he pulls back starring at the omega, there’s no going back he realizes. There’s no way that he’ll be able to carry on like they have before now that he knows how John’s lips feels, how he tastes and how his hands feels in Sherlock’s hair.

“You look so lost” John whispers while stroking back one of the detective’s stray curls.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have” Sherlock whispers back gripping even tighter to John’s jumper sounding terrified even to his own ears.

John doesn’t answer this straight away, instead he directs his right hand to Sherlock’s chin and the detective closes his eyes and leans in to his touch as the doctor strokes his prominent cheekbone with his thumb.

“You haven’t” the doctor says softly and Sherlock opens his eyes. “And you won’t” John adds firmly and leans up to give Sherlock a quick kiss. “But I think that it’s been a long day, and I’m barely able to stay awake and I probably should be for this conversation so could we maybe talk about this tomorrow?”

Sherlock nods slowly as he tries to read his flatmate, unable to see anything but John’s fond tired expression. He then stands abruptly and starts walking towards his bedroom. Just as he’s about to enter it he can hear John quietly bid him a good night.

* * *

 

Despite being convinced that he’d never be able to fall asleep after the eventful evening, Sherlock wakes up nine hours later with the sun shining through his window. As always after sleeping for far too many hours, Sherlock feels a bit groggy and it takes a while for him to wake up properly. When he does however he goes absolutely rigid, _he kissed John_. But even more importantly, John had kissed him, and he’d initiated the kiss as well.

The good thing about this was that obviously that the idea of kissing Sherlock didn’t repel John, _but_ Sherlock had no idea if this was a one-time thing or if John was interested in some more kissing. Sherlock certainly was. Just the memory of John’s lips and his wicked tongue made Sherlock’s blood boil and head south. He forced his transport to behave and tried to analyse the situation. However, as always when it came to John, he had no idea what was going on or how to deal with it.

After lying in bed for a good 40 minutes terrified of leaving his room and risk bumping in to John (how was he supposed to act!?) he scolded himself and headed to the bathroom to empty his bladder that felt as if it was about to burst. After washing his hands he headed out to the shared living space and realized that John was nowhere to be found. Had he bolted after Sherlock had fallen asleep? What if he had realized exactly what Sherlock wanted of him and decided that it was too much and that he was having none of it. Sherlock thought back at the previous evening, he had kissed John just after the doctor had been kidnapped and strapped to a bomb after all, maybe the chock had worn off and he’d been disgusted by Sherlock’s actions. Whatever reasons it was clear that John had left. His shoes as well as jacket was missing and the whole flat felt cold and empty as always when the omega wasn’t in it.

The detective threw himself on the sofa and retreated to his mind. What was the point of staying in the present if John Watson wasn’t in it?

After some time (judging by the light outside, or rather lack of, Sherlock would say it was late afternoon) the front door opened and closed. Sherlock braced himself as he could hear John’s gait in the stairs. Was he back to get his belongings? Maybe Sherlock should retreat to his room as to avoid an embarrassing confrontation, there was however no time for it as John opened the door to the flat and walked in. Sherlock tried to make himself as invisible as possible on the sofa.

“Oh there you are! I had an absolutely awful day at work today, first there was this woman that..” John’s voice filled the flat as he told Sherlock about his day, but the detective was barely listening, he was busy being in shock.

After spending endless hours of following Sherlock around puzzle solving, John had been kidnapped and had a bomb strapped to him, after surviving that Sherlock had thrown himself at him with kisses and declarations and the doctor had just taken it all in stride and headed to work just hours later. Sherlock couldn’t help but to stare at the remarkable man before him, and once again marvelled over how perfect he was.

John hadn’t left him. Sherlock let the knowledge of that sink in. John was back in their home, making tea and seemed genuinely pleased to see the detective, Sherlock almost felt like crying.

As the doctor settled down in his chair with a cup of tea, after putting one on the coffee table for Sherlock, he looked over at the alpha. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked and blew on his tea to cool it before he took a sip.

“I thought you’d left” Sherlock answered truthfully.

John must have heard the vulnerability in his voice because his features suddenly softened and Sherlock could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. “Sherlock, I’m not leaving” he said softly. “Get used to it” he then added with a smile and Sherlock could feel himself smile in return.

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the begining, please comment on what you thought of it so I know how I can improve. And thank you for reading!
> 
> xx


End file.
